


take the leap

by Ereana



Series: You belong to the world and to me [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Atsumu struggles, Established Relationship, Fluff, Holding Hands, Insecurity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:20:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26776522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ereana/pseuds/Ereana
Summary: Atsumu wants to hold Bokuto's hand.He's also scared to.This is a dilemna.
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou/Miya Atsumu
Series: You belong to the world and to me [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952110
Comments: 15
Kudos: 143





	take the leap

Bokuto has big hands.

This is a fact. They’re big and strong, with callouses that only come from years and years of dedicated training. High-fives to celebrate incredible plays, clapping to sway the crowd to join in, and punched into the air as a victory celebration, those hands had done plenty.

Atsumu knows them intimately.

As a setter he knows his own hands have to be kept in top shape and he does so meticulously. They’re his tools, his weapons and he won’t ever run the risk of ruining them. People have complimented his hands before.

Flings, old boyfriends and girlfriends, friends, and teammates. He’s heard everything from lewd pick-up lines to simple genuine compliments, and he takes pride in keeping them in top condition.

Bokuto’s hands fascinate him.

He knows how they feel sliding up his chest reverently, mapping out the dips and contours of his body with the focus of a professional cartographer. Those hands have pulled him close in mornings when he’s tried to slip away, pulled him back into warmth and stinking morning breath and a smile so bright it takes his breath away every time he sees it. 

Those hands have pressed into his back, pushing up along his spine and kneading into his shoulders until he groans in a way that was so not appropriate for the work space. Thankfully, it had just been the two of them practicing one-to-one after training and they’d been able to take full advantage of the empty changing room.

He has a feeling Sakusa knows what they did. His  friend teammate had been in a foul mood for the rest of that week and Atsumu swears that one spike was aimed directly at his face. Unwilling to stir things up, especially with some hurt feelings over the two of them hiding it for so long, he and Bokuto had agreed not to let themselves get too carried away at training.

That didn’t stop the bastard from finding a thousand reasons to ‘innocently’ touch Atsumu and looking adorably confused when Atsumu hissed at him to stop it. The rest of the team thought he was being oversensitive, but Atsumu saw the pleased, wicked look in those golden eyes as his boyfriend went to practice his spikes.

Bokuto had been given permission to touch and that had released a whole hoard of issues Atsumu hadn’t been prepared to deal with.

Apparently, six months of not being able to tell or show people that Atsumu was boyfriend had taken its toll  — Atsumu did his best not to feel guilty about that — and rather than disappear, the need to show affection had simply been stored up, waiting to be unleashed upon an unsuspecting Atsumu when they’d finally revealed their relationship to the world.

It was a little overwhelming at times, he was used to friendly touches; a clap on the back, a high five, a team hug at the end of a hard-won victory. He wasn’t used to hands tracing down his back ghosting over the places where Bokuto knew there were marks, marks that Bokuto had sucked and bit on to Atsumu himself. Wasn’t used to team dinners pressed right up against Bokuto’s side, one hand idly stroking his hip as the ace discussed the previous game with Meian.

Atsumu wasn’t used to someone wanting to keep him and show him off.

There wasn’t a day that went past that Bokuto didn’t show how much he cared; a kiss on the cheek before they stepped into the gym, an arm slung around Atsumu’s shoulder as they walked back to their apartment  — yes they were living together now, which brought its own set of ‘shit I’ve never done this before’ problems — and those goddamn hands which were  _ always  _ touching him.

It wasn’t like Atsumu didn’t like it or anything.

_ Far from it, it never ceased to amaze him how much Bokuto wanted him. He kept expecting to wake up alone one day in his old bed, with no gorgeous, sweet boyfriend there to pepper butterfly kisses all over his face until he laughed and agreed to get up. In those first few months he waited for the other shoe to drop, waited for Bokuto to tire of him and break things off. Except it never did, and Bokuto only clung to him tighter and tighter in the moments they could steal away from the rest of the world. _

_ Eventually he learned to trust the fondness he saw in Bokuto’s eyes and the gentleness of his hands whenever he touched Atsumu. _

_ Atsumu knew he loved him when he woke up one morning to Bokuto tracing the shape of his jaw. He’d listened to an embarrassed explanation about how pretty and peaceful he looked just snoozing in the morning sun and how Bokuto just couldn't help himself completely ignorant to the fact that all Atsumu was thinking at that point was ‘why did you stop?’, ‘I want to wake up every day like that’ and ‘I love how you show you care about me...I love you.’ _

Atsumu just wished he could reciprocate.

It felt like he was still stuck in the past six weeks; afraid to show even the smallest sign of affection in case someone caught on. It was stupid because people knew that they were together now. His phone after that post Olympic-match kiss had blown up with notifications and messages about what the hell had just happened. The money shot of the kiss had appeared in several new outlets and they’d been fending off interviews for weeks. 

Osamu still hadn’t quite forgiven him for keeping it secret, and there was something weighty in his eyes when he looked at Bokuto now.

He’d been invited to attend the next Fukurodani reunion meal and wasn’t that an absolutely terrifying thought.

As he’d expected his old teammates from Inarizaki had wasted no time in teasing him about his ‘flashy’ way of announcing his relationship to the world, but they seemed genuinely happy for him. Kita even wondered aloud if they should have a ‘talk’ with Bokuto about taking care of their old setter. Atsumu thought he’d only been half-joking but the solemn nods from the rest of his old teammates had been oddly serious.

Fans came up to the pair of them and thanked them for being brave enough to come out to the world. Atsumu hadn’t felt brave; he'd felt annoyed and irritated that he couldn’t kiss his boyfriend in public like he wanted to.

It had changed things.

Atsumu wished he could change a little too.

No matter what he tried or what he told himself, he struggled with the newfound freedom that came with being an open couple. He’d lean in for a kiss only to catch himself and pull back — too many memories of almost being caught, of being too affectionate and risk suspicion, racing to the forefront of his mind — or Bokuto would sling an arm around his waist and pull him close only for Atsumu to tense slightly and the grip would loosen.

He didn’t want that.

He didn’t want to go backwards in their relationship or make Bokuto worry that he was making Atsumu uncomfortable. A little of that old hesitation was slipping back in, like an annoying weed that had survived the herbicide and was regrowing stronger than ever, and Atsumu was doing his best not to panic.

He wasn’t good at this sort of stuff.

Sex? No problem, he was good at it. 

Simple shows of affection? Uh.... those had never really come up before. The men and women he’d been with were more for a night of fun than taking them out on a date and sharing the dessert — Atsumu didn’t have a big sweet tooth but Bokuto did and he’d full on pouted when Atsumu had refused to try the sugary monstrosity he’d ordered for their first proper night out as a couple. It hadn’t tasted that bad but he’d still booked an appointment with his dentist the next day. 

He didn’t even know why it was freaking him out. It wasn’t like Bokuto would reject him.

Far from it, whenever they were back in their apartment, back in their own private bubble, he’d practically purr as Atsumu showered him with affectionate touches; maybe overcompensating for not being able to do the same in public. Sixty percent of the time he ended up in Bokuto’s lap on the couch with strong arms wrapped around his waist and Bokuto enthusiastically nuzzling his neck.

The other forty percent of the time they ended up in the bedroom but even that ended with long cuddle sessions nowadays. 

Anyway, the point was Atsumu was acting like a coward and he hated it.

Bokuto deserved better.

He figured it would be best to start with something small, leaping right into Bokuto-level demonstrations of affection might actually kill him, and he settles on holding hands.

No problem right?

Wrong.

Bokuto was an incredibly active man. He was constantly on the move, or bouncing in place, or waving his arms around as he described something awesome that he’d seen. His hands were in constant motion; pointing, on Atsumu, waving, on Atsumu, clapping, on Atsumu, touching, and sometimes they were on Atsumu as well.

This presented some difficulty to any attempts on Atsumu’s part to initiate his master plan to hold his boyfriend’s hand. He’d either miss and look like an idiot, or he’d end up grabbing the hand in mid-air and look like an idiot.

There wasn’t much point in holding hands when Bokuto was touching him because the whole point was for Atsumu to initiate for once — to prove that he was just as invested in the two of them as Bokuto was.

Atsumu knew he had to get past this, for the both of them.

It’s late. The evening air is cool against his skin and he listens with one ear to Bokuto rave about the day’s training. This is how their friendship began when Atsumu had joined the Jackals straight out of high school; realising they lived in the same neighbourhood and Bokuto offering to walk the new guy home. 

Atsumu had humoured him, bemused by his newest spiker and eager to learn what made him tick. He’d seen Bokuto play in high school of course, had even gone up against Fukurodani once in his first year, and while he wasn’t prepared to put up with any of this ‘unreliable ace’ shit he did need to know how to toss to the guy. They’d gotten to know each other on those walks to and from the gym. They weren’t important by any means, just stupid silly conversations between two teammates that ranged across such varied topics as ‘do you think Barnes is secretly a spy for his home country?’ to ‘no I’m telling you I can juggle six apples at once, come back to my place and I’ll prove it’. Atsumu learned about all the little things that made Bokuto  _ Bokuto _ , that made the incredible player just another guy. A guy that Atsumu found surprisingly easy to get along with.

So the walks had become something of a tradition between them.

It was the perfect opportunity.

The street is nearly barren tonight; a small group outside a bar on the other side of the road and an older man sat on a bench talking rapidly into his phone, and Atsumu starts to doubt himself.

Is this enough people to count as ‘in public’?

Are his hands too sweaty? No-one wants to hold sweaty hands, Bokuto wouldn’t say anything but he’d think it was gross for sure.

What if he misses? What if he misses Bokuto’s hands as he’s using them to demonstrate exactly how Kuroo injured himself with a rice cooker in his second year and grabs his ass by mistake. That would be indecent and someone would call the police and Atsumu would be jailed for harassment and never get to hold Bokuto’s hand.

“Tsum-Tsum?” He jolts up straight and sees that they’ve stopped. Bokuto is watching him with concern, his hands dropping to his sides, and leans forward. “Are you okay?”

Atsumu tries to laugh it off. “Of course I’m okay Bok-kun, what makes you think I’m not?”

“Because you haven’t been listening to me since we crossed the road back there, and you’ve got your overthinking face on so…” Bokuto trails off with a shrug and a grin. 

“I’m just a little tired from practice is all nothin’ ta worry about...and whaddya mean overthinking face?” 

Bokuto leans closer, close enough that Atsumu can see the flecks of brown in his eyes, “It’s cute!” he chirps. What grown man in his twenties chirps? 

“Hmmph.” Atsumu isn’t pouting, he’s not. 

“C’mon, if there’s something that’s bothering you I want to know. Maybe I can help.”

“Nah, it really ain’t nothin’. I’m bein’ stupid is all.” Bokuto doesn’t look like he believes him and Atsumu opens his mouth to spout more  false reassurances when the man on the bench turns to them with a raised eyebrow.

“Excuse me but I’m trying to have a conversation here, would you mind having your little tiff elsewhere?” he says in a tone that Atsumu hates, it’s snooty and rude and screams ‘I’m-better-than-you’. 

It’s another little niggle to the plan and he’s had enough. He wants to go home and cuddle Bokuto until he feels better.

“Yeah, yeah we’re leavin’ old man.”

“Who are you calling old? Disrespectful brat-”

Atsumu has heard enough, he grabs Bokuto’s hand and starts pulling him down the street. The guy is lucky he’s not a teenager anymore, teenage Atsumu wouldn’t have been satisfied with simply walking away.

Then again teenage Atsumu was also convinced that Kita was part alien, not full alien but maybe like a quarter or something, so it’s probably for the best.

He still grumbles about it as he all but stomps down the road.

“Can ya believe the nerve of that guy? S’not like we were doin’ anythin’ wrong or did I miss the announcement that walkin’ was a crime? Seriously, who pissed in his drink today? And he calls us disrespectful? I hope he falls flat on his face after he leaves that bench and breaks that stupid phone of his.” He pauses, waiting for Bokuto to chime in about how either the guy was probably in a bad mood and not to worry about him or agree with Atsumu and start complaining as well.

Silence.

They’re still walking together, Bokuto hasn’t stopped moving, but he’s quiet.

Unusual.

Atsumu glances to the side and suddenly he’s the one stopping.

Bokuto is smiling. It’s a soft, pleased little smile that Atsumu usually only sees when they’re alone and feeling ridiculously sappy.

He’d smiled like that the morning Atsumu realised he loved him.

He’s looking down at his hand.

His hand which Atsumu is holding, from when he’d grabbed it earlier. Their fingers are interlaced and Atsumu squeezes gently.

Bokuto flicks a look at him and then back down to their hands. He squeezes back.

They could never do this before.

The rest of Atsumu’s complaint dies in his mouth and he grins, giddy all of a sudden. He’s holding his boyfriend’s hand. He made the first move, sure it was slightly fuelled by annoyance but he’ll take it as a win.

He tugs Bokuto forward and they resume their walk. They walk in silence this time, both struck strangely shy by the little gesture, sneaking glances at one another to check that they’re both still smiling.

Atsumu’s ears are pink and it’s not from the evening chill.

Bokuto’s cheeks flush a light red and he starts to swing their hands.

It’s a start.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> So what started out as a gift fic has evolved into a whole series of ideas for these two OTL, I am fully in rare pair hell. It's pretty fun!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this little fluff fic and thank you for any kudos or comments!


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